Ha-Joon practically sprinted into the kitchen, his breath uneven as he pressed his back against the counter. His heart hammered against his ribs, not from exertion—but from frustration.
"Why is he even here?! This is my safe place!"
The kitchen had always been his refuge. A quiet place where he could lose himself in the rhythmic motions of kneading dough, shaping dumplings, and listening to his grandfather's humming as they worked together.
But now?
Now, a golden-haired storm had barged in, disrupting his peace.
Ha-Joon exhaled sharply, rolling out a fresh piece of dough with far more aggression than necessary.
A chuckle came from the doorway.
"You look like you're fighting the dough, not making dumplings."
Ha-Joon flinched. His grandfather stood there, watching him with a knowing smile.
"I-I'm just stressed!" he blurted, trying to focus on his work.
His grandfather simply nodded, stepping further into the kitchen. For a moment, he said nothing, only observing Ha-Joon's hands as they moved over the dough.
Then, in a quiet voice, he said, "You know… this is the first time I've ever seen you bring friends here."
Ha-Joon's hands froze mid-motion.
"Friends?"
Did he mean… Seo-Won?
Ha-Joon's lips parted, as if to deny it, but the words didn't come out. He swallowed, gripping the dough tighter.
His grandfather walked over to the worn wooden stool near the counter, sitting down with a slow, thoughtful motion. His gaze drifted upward, toward the ceiling, as if lost in memories.
"After your parents passed away… you stopped letting people in."
"Grandpa—"
"It's okay, child." His grandfather gave him a gentle smile, but his eyes held something deeper—something old and aching. "I understand."
Ha-Joon lowered his gaze, his fingers kneading the dough absently.
A memory flickered in his mind—a younger version of himself, standing alone in the schoolyard. Other children laughed and played around him, but he kept his distance, clutching his lunchbox tightly as if it were a shield.
"You never invited anyone over. You never brought home a single friend."
That was how it had always been. Even when classmates tried to get close, he kept them at arm's length. It was easier that way. Safer.
"I… I didn't want to burden anyone," he murmured, barely above a whisper.
His grandfather rose from his seat, placing a warm hand on Ha-Joon's shoulder. His touch was steady, reassuring.
"But today… for the first time, someone came here for you."
Ha-Joon blinked.
"Someone… came for me?"
His heart squeezed in a way he didn't quite understand.
Out in the dining area, Seo-Won leaned back in his chair, spinning a dumpling between his fingers as he waited.
His blue eyes flicked toward the kitchen, amusement dancing in them.
"What's taking him so long? Did I tease him too much?"
Seo-Won smirked to himself. Ha-Joon was just too fun to mess with. His reactions, his little glares, the way he blushed so easily—it was all too entertaining.
But at the same time…
Seo-Won found himself wanting to know more.
There was something about Ha-Joon—something guarded, something stubborn.
And Seo-Won was intrigued.
In the kitchen, Ha-Joon inhaled deeply, steadying himself. He let his emotions settle before tightening the strings of his apron.
Then, with renewed resolve, he picked up a tray of freshly made dumplings.
"I don't know why he's here… but I won't run away anymore."
Squaring his shoulders, Ha-Joon stepped out of the kitchen, ready to face the storm waiting for him